


The Mind of a Maniac

by BecauseFandomsAreBetter



Series: Redemption [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied History of Abuse, Sebastian/James Non-romantic, descriptions of abuse, sebastian moran - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:09:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4163400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseFandomsAreBetter/pseuds/BecauseFandomsAreBetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian is always with Jim wherever he goes, lurking in the shadows or standing imposingly by his side. He's learnt how to deal with the beatings.<br/>He could always handle a bit of pain anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mind of a Maniac

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> This little story sprung to being from one of my late-night fic reading sessions (we've all been there, admit it), and sort of...took off from there. It was originally planned as a one-shot, but had evolved into a series. Speaking of, if you have any name suggestions for the series, I'd be much obliged. I'm horribly uncreative. 
> 
> Enjoy :)
> 
> Warnings: Mild scene of abuse

Chapter One

Sebastian stood in the back of the room, as always, pretending he was a part of the shadows. Wherever Jim was, Sebastian was too. Especially on days like today, when Jim had a string of meetings lined up for him.

The only exceptions were assignments.

He shifted almost imperceptibly as Jim’s last client left. Almost- but then Jim always caught everything. “Uncomfortable, my dear?” his slick voice asked, cooly ringing in the empty office. Sebastian has always thought it was a bit too sharp, and that a round table or some such would help to soften the feel. But he’d never say that out loud, because Jim liked to pretend that Sebastian couldn’t do much thinking outside of what he was told. Jim liked to pretend a lot of things. He hated signs of weakness, which is why Sebastian tried very hard not to move his torso at all. He might be stiff later, but it was a hundred times better then what Jim would do if he saw him display even a hint of discomfort. “There now Sebastian. I didn’t see you move, did I?” Jim called out again in a sing-song voice. “No sir.” He’d learned to read Jim over the years, knew that there were times when lying was acceptable, and times when it wasn’t. Jim saw through the lies of course, but then he did love pretending. “Good. Now you just sit there for a bit longer and then I’ve got a job for you. Isn’t that nice, Sebastian? A lovely new job!”  
“Yes sir.”  
                                                                                                                           ~  
“Ahh-” his cry was cut off by Jim’s hand, as the older man stood over him. “Keep it quiet dear. We wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear, would we?” The room was sound-proofed and they both knew it, but Sebastian nodded anyways. Jim smiled, and moved behind his prone figure. He picked up the riding crop- his preferred method on particularly bad days. And today had been a bad day. Sherlock Holmes, someone Jim had been loosely following for quite some time now, had suddenly jumped to the top of his list by getting one of Jim’s best men killed. Sebastian swallowed tightly as Jim tightened his bonds, mentally preparing himself for Jim’s frustration and anger. “Ready my dear?” Jim purred, leaning down to whisper silkily in his ear.

This time when he started to hit, Sebastian was silent.  
                                                                                                                            ~  
He never left bruises where people could see them. Not out of any regard for Sebastian, but because showing them off would be sharing, and Sebastian was Jim’s alone.  
Sebastian’s back, torso, and legs were covered in purple and black. Thankfully Jim usually left Sebastian alone for a few days after his last session, so he had time to take care of his wounds and recover. Sebastian shut the door to his bathroom and sat down gingerly on the closed toilet seat. Opening his cupboard he pulled out the first aid kit he kept stored there at all times. He tugged off his shirt, wincing as the soft fabric rubbed against his bruises. He took some alcohol and cotton pads and quickly disinfected his skin. Sebastian was used to doing his own medical work, and had gotten perfected his efficient routine.  
Today, however, an extra step was required. Before putting on any bandages, he took out a small tube of numbing cream that was usually used to treat toothaches, and applied it to some of the more painful welts. Jim, true to his word, had a new job for him and it promised to be less than comfortable. Sebastian didn’t do this often, but when it was necessary it did help. With a sigh, he finished dressing his wounds and gently tugged his shirt back on.  
“Tomorrow, Sherlock Holmes.” he muttered to himself as he climbed into bed. “Tomorrow, we’re putting an end to this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Side note: Happy Ramadan to all my fellow fasters out there! Rest assured I will be writing this story in the early hours of the morning before Suher. I never could wake up on time.


End file.
